And Then There Were Two
by Jasper winked
Summary: "What is this place?" she whispers in response, and the Doctor is sure she can feel him wince, from inches away, just because she's Rose Tyler and she knows him. 10/Rose


**A/N: Bit more of a plot this time, just a little thing that wouldn't get out of my head. Hope you like it; I'm not quite sure if I do. I just had to get out my creative insanity. (Does anyone else hate algebra? It's horrible!) As always, comments are welcomed. ;)**

**Disclaimer: ****STILL don't own Doctor Who. **

_And Then There Were Two_

He never _means _to hit the console hard; it's just sometimes the dear old girl needs a bit of coaching mid-flight. And as the screen flickers to life, showing the landscape outside, he shudders. Off course, definitely, though he's not sure if that's because of the hammer or not. The TARDIS can get as sassy as Rose Tyler, he thinks.

His companion peeks past him with her (patented, he's sure) cheeky smile, tongue between teeth. "So we've landed then, eh?" She dances around him easily, and makes her way to the doors.

"No—" He makes a quick reach for her hand, coming up with only air, and she is already outside.

The first sight of a new planet always excites Rose. So much she can see, so much that's new and wonderful. But this isn't wonderful, isn't beautiful, like the planets he always takes her to.

Black sand under her feet reminds her of volcanoes, hot and boiling, full of life, though as far as she can see, there is no life to this place. The sky is charcoal gray, verging on a white that reminds her of worn notebook paper, and the wind, _oh_, the wind.

It rushes past her, tangling her blond hair, and she can hear its screams. When she looks back, it has already erased her footsteps.

She thinks it's almost like she was never there, and isn't there, if only for the fact that she _feels_ there, as the wind scours her skin.

And she doesn't see, but she feels the Doctor slip into place beside her. His voice is calm, but underneath, she can almost—

"We should go," he says, and she can feel his breath on her neck, reminding her that she isn't the only one here.

No matter how long those black sand dunes stretch out in front of her for.

"What is this place?" she whispers in response, and the Doctor is sure she can feel him wince, from inches away, just because she's Rose Tyler and she knows him.

"The TARDIS didn't mean to bring us here," he says, as much of an answer as he wants to give.

Rose can almost feel herself blow away with the wind, only that her anger doesn't move, just firmly roots her to the listless black grit, under a lonely sky.

"So that's it then, Doctor?" she asks him. "You only show _us _some parts of the universe?"

He hears the '_us' _in her voice, as she talks of his past companions. And he wants to tell her that all the things they see, he tries to protect them from the worst of it, protect _her_ from the worst of it.

But he can't always, and his companions change. No more wonder in the eyes as they look at a new place, no smile on their faces.

Can he tell her that he never wants that to happen to her?

He can see her gaze around; at a planet that no one cares to remember anymore, and he is afraid—yes, _afraid_—of what she will think.

Rose can just imagine everything that had once went on here, maybe people who had not a care in the world. She wonders if it was a war or a natural disaster that happened next, and then what difference it makes.

The planet is still barren, cold, and the wind whistles next to her, stirring up the black grit until she's tempted to close her eyes.

Had the wind whisked the imprint of their lives away like it was trying to do with her?

She sits with a sigh. The Doctor copies her movement, almost subconsciously, and slowly, as an apology of sorts, she leans against him.

He looks down at her blond hair, quickly becoming covered with black dust. Without thought (he knows he wouldn't have done if he was thinking properly—he can never think around her), he brushes his hands through the tangled strands. The Doctor feels her start, and then relax as his hands work their way through her hair.

And she feels like even if they are the only two people on this lifeless planet, it's okay because _he's here with her_. And as his hands brush her hair, one lingers a bit longer on her cheek because he can't help himself. _She is always his one weakness_.

So they lean on each other, on this planet that has a name no one cares to remember anymore—and _hope_. And for a second, their heartbeats can be heard together above the relentless wind.


End file.
